


Silent Night

by BardicRaven



Category: Wild Wild West (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Choices, Consequences, Gen, Origin Story, Origins, Partnership, unlikely partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 18:04:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardicRaven/pseuds/BardicRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere along the way, a team was born and a friendship developed.</p>
<p>A friendship that while not easy, became deep and enduring nonetheless.</p>
<p>A friendship of give and take, saving lives on both sides more than once.</p>
<p>A friendship that has opened eyes and broadened perspectives.</p>
<p>But first, they had to choose it.</p>
<p>And that was something that was far from certain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quoshara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quoshara/gifts).



> Misty, water-colored memory intersects with age to produce a tale that, apparently and much to my surprise, is an AU bit of W3 lore, rather than the canon-full bit of whimsy I was originally going for.
> 
> Nonetheless, I like it and hope that you will too. :>
> 
> Enjoy! :>

**Prologue**

It's not been easy, this friendship.

A team initially forced, not chosen, born of hardship and necessity.

Different worlds.  
Different attitudes.  
Different choices.

There's a level of friction behind the smiles, a sense of competition above and beyond that of ordinary men, that says they will never forget.

And small wonder.

War divides long after the guns are silenced.

They never met during the war, or if they did, they never knew.

But the fact remains that one wore Blue, the other Grey, and those colors inevitably bled to cover their worlds.

One endured seeing his beloved city occupied and oppressed during the War, his family reduced to desperate circumstances.

One guarded a man who would later come to rule them both.

None of it a basis for instant friendship.

But still, both bowed their heads to necessity and went where duty took them, however reluctantly they may have gone.

And somewhere along the way, a team was born.

A friendship that while not easy, became deep and enduring nonetheless.  
A friendship of give and take, saving lives on both sides more than once.  
A friendship that has opened eyes and broadened perspectives.

But first, they had to choose it.

And that was something that was far from certain

#  **Silent Night**

**Arte Gordon**

The ceiling hung there as it ever had.

Harsh.  
Bleak.  
Uninviting.

Just like his future.

No matter which path he chose, his future was pretty much guaranteed to be unpleasant.

**One choice:** decline the 'generous' offer of a pardon-with-a-price and remain here in prison and serve his time.

Be branded a felon and a thief.  
Be forced to face his family with the shame of both his crime and his double failure of being caught, and by a Yankee, no less.

**The other choice:** take the offer. At first glance, it might seem to be by far the lesser of two evils, but Arte wasn't so sure of that.

It meant being teamed with a man who stood for everything he detested: a Union soldier-boy, all spit and polish and full of righteous conviction that his beliefs were the only ones that mattered.

Neither choice appealed to him.

And yet...

...one would become his life's path by the dawn's early light.

Which to choose

He was quite sure there would be no sleep in the cards for him tonight. Such an choice did not bode well for drifting off into the Land of Nod.

He continued to lie there, unmoving, willing the world to be other than it was, wondering what on Earth he would choose to do.

 

************************

**Jim West**

In another time, another place, a young Captain stood at attention as he received his orders.

"Keep him safe, West. He is in your charge now."

Simple words, but the task was not as simple as it might first appear. 'He' referred to General Ulysses S. Grant, currently laying in his tent, brought down by a lucky shot in the last battle.

His orders would have un-nerved him more, had the General been in any condition to go anywhere. (And had he been the type to BE un-nerved. Even at his current tender years, he was gaining a reputation for fearlessness that was garnering him both appreciation and distrust alike. It was widely speculated that he'd either end up decorated or dead before the year was out.)

As it was, while the doctor had given him a good prognosis, the General would be out of action for some time to come.

And while that should have made things easier, at least until the General was feeling well enough to start chafing at the bit, Jim West knew that he needed to remain on his guard.

Johnny Reb would love nothing better than to finish what he'd started and permanently remove this aggravating thorn from their tender side.

West knew he would be getting no sleep tonight.

 

************************

**Gordon**

Arte dreamed.

The lights were coming up on a huge stage, bare except for two silver rails of track flowing across the wooden expanse.  
Beyond the lights, he could hear the audience settling in for the performance.

Snippets of conversation reached him in the wings:

_Will he make it?_

_I heard he might cancel his appearance._

_But who will help us if he does? How can the show go on?_

_Why isn't he coming tonight?_

_No one knows. Maybe he's afraid?_

_Of what?_

_Of us._

The voices rose, becoming an indistinguishable roar, drowning out everything in their wake.

The scene blurred, losing all form except for the roar of the crowd beating at him, a pulsating sound that became his entire world.

When the noise eventually subsided, Arte saw a train sitting on the tracks now, bright and shiny and new.

And now, Arte heard the voices again, but they had changed.

Where before there had been confusion and fear, now there was gratitude and joy in the tones of the snippets he heard.

_Thank you._

_Appreciate you're helping us out here._

_Thanks so much, mister!_

And then, somehow, he was on board the train, and it was chugging off, stage-left, and the audience was waving farewells in thanks as he drifted off into the blackness of a peaceful sleep to the sound of wheels.

 

************************

**West**

Jim West lay motionless under the bedclothes, listening to the quiet breathing of his evening's companion, thinking about his future.

The meeting this afternoon had been... less than stellar. He hadn't been at all favorably impressed by the scraggly, arrogant Southerner he'd been told, not asked, to take as his new partner.

He was a soldier, blood and bone, so of course he would do as he was ordered, but he didn't have to like it.

A partner was someone whom you could trust with your back, your life.

Could he trust this Artemus Gordon? Convicted counterfeiter, actor, Southerner, some said spy?

Did he want to?

But what of the consequences of a refusal?

He was wise enough in military ways to recognize a not-particularly-veiled threat when he heard one.

Dishonorable discharge would be the BEST he could hope for.

He loved his life as it was, the responsibility, the pride, and yes, the women.

As much as he wasn’t eager to be blackmailed into accepting this strange Southerner as a partner, he was even less eager to be thrown out of the service.

He had his answer. Distasteful tho’ it might be, he would give this partnership thing a try and see where it would lead him.

  
************************

**The Next Morning**

"So, do I have your answer?" The tall, heavyset gentleman walked toward them. Behind him, the trappings of office stood in luxurious splendor, leather and mahogany, the reward for a demanding service.

"Yes, sir, you do."

"And that word is?"

"We are at your service, sir."

"Very well." The heavily bearded man nodded briefly. “Go to the yards. You’ll find your train is waiting.”

He looked at them in turn. “West, your cover story is that of a railroad president. Gordon, make something up. You know how to do that, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Good luck, gentlemen. I’m afraid you’re going to need it.”  
He shook hands with both of them, and that was that.

An ending.  
And a beginning.

 

************************

**Epilogue**

Riding off into the sunset?  
Not exactly, tho’ the evening did find them heading westward, chugging steadily away from Washington, D.C.

But in the end, it was indeed the beginning of a beautiful friendship, to steal a phrase from another tale.

And with that, we leave you, dear Yuletide reader.

May your Hollydays be Happy and your own Paths be as smooth as you care to make them.


End file.
